The Snake's Trio
by materialgirl079
Summary: For their own reasons, Harry, Ron and Hermione are all strong, independent and powerful Wizards and Witches. Bound by the Perspone's link, they will be sorted into Slytherin, and change the world.
1. Prologue

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 **The Snake's Trio**

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 **Prologue**

 _#4 Privet Drive_

A small, skinny ten year old sat, curled up, in a small cupboard. His face was wet with tears, the salty stream pouring down his pale face as he sobbed away the pain. Large, mature green eyes peaked out from under a mop of black hair, welling with tears as he sat in his cot. He winced as he moved backwards in his tiny room, pressing his bruised back against the wall. He thought back to the night before…

Uncle Vernon had not been very happy.

The tiny cupboard was getting small for him now, he knew, but he also knew that he wouldn't be leaving it any time soon. As light started to pour through the crack in the doorframe, he wiped his eyes furiously.

 _Don't show your weakness, it only makes it hurt more._

That was the rule he always made himself obey at the Dursleys. Showing weakness was a sin, it only made the pain worse, and he had known this for as long as he could remember.

For as long as he could remember, he had been unresponsive, pensive and mechanic. He had closed himself off from all others, only taking pleasure from the time he spent in his small den outside the community football field.

It was funny how he had come across the place really. Harry fondly remembered how he had come across The Den, and what that had brought on…

 _He was running from Dudley and his gang one Saturday, panting and stumbling as he ran from their fists and their sticks. The eight year old's feet pounded against the sodden pavement as he reached the end of Magnolia Crescent, splashing and slapping in puddles as he ran. He rounded a corner and, on a whim, he sprinted around the outside of the large football field near his home, and delved into the huge forest that lined one edge._

 _Harry ran blindly into the trees, Dudley's catcalls and jeers fading into the distance. As he ran, he dove, ducked and dived among the wet leaves that hung low, the rainwater weighing them down. He changed direction and twisting his body every few seconds in a desperate attempt to get away from his cousin. Soon, the young boy burst through two dark trees, and came to a stumbling halt in a large clearing, far away from the distant football field._

 _The boy looked around, curious and intrigued by the beauty of the scene. The clearing was large, surrounded by tightly knit Applewood trees, so close that they nearly touched. The earth was littered with long, green grass, and the ground around the trees sported tall, drooping foxgloves, white and purple in colour. The branches of the trees stretched inwards, covering the clearing and shielding Harry from the pattering rain. Many of the trees were hollow, and Harry found himself wishing desperately that they were bigger, so big that he could crawl inside them and warm his frostbitten fingers. Suddenly, he felt a strange urge to raise his right hand. He did, slowly and cautiously, and flicked his skinny wrist at the tree nearest him._

 _The tree moved._

 _It shifted and morphed, the large hollow in it pushing outwards like it was being pulled apart by hot, iron hands. Soon, Harry was standing in front of a large, open hole in the tree trunk, with a small room inside it that was surely too big to fit in that thin, tall tree._

 _Harry stared down at his hand in awe, a smile slowly growing on his pale face._

 _This was the beginning of something. Something big._

Since that moment, Harry had trained in magic every day. He had started small, little things like pointing his finger at his desk in school and conjuring a small insect. Then, his daring had grew, and he had started to conjure more and more amazing things. Once, he had seen Dudley beating up a small child, and had muttered the first thing that came into his head, _'Stupefy!'._ Dudley had slumped to the floor in a dead faint, and the tiny boy had scampered away without a second glance at Harry.

Harry had started developing the spell he had used, and soon found that he could create other spells as well. Spells like _'Impedimenta'_ , _'Expeliarmus'_ and _'Locomotor'_ had fallen from his lips, and Harry had decided to start learning Latin. The librarian had looked at him like he was crazy when he had asked for books on Latin, but had complied once she got over her shock. Soon, Harry was attempting the impossible every night in The Den, and huge white stags leapt around him long into the eve, as he conjured large, golden eagles to keep watch on the entrance to the clearing.

He had developed the talent of seeing into people's minds, subtly and lightly reading their thoughts as they faced away from him. He had had a laugh at reading his Uncles ignorant, unorganised thoughts that was for sure. He had also felt a strange pull in the back of his mind every now and again, as he passed certain people in the street. It felt like something was being pulled from his mind, and he got rapidly annoyed at it, training to force out the strange sensations in his mind. Soon, he stopped feeling them, only feeling a small ripple in his head. He also noticed, with amusement, that whenever this happened, certain people started to look a little like Dudley if breakfast wasn't ready on time, which made him laugh inwardly.

He was independent. Strong, fearless and defiant until the last moment, he attempted the impossible one night, and attempted to reach his soul guide.

He had heard of this theory many a time, and, after much research had decided to attempt it. He had meditated, and after a mere two hours he had achieved the feat that so many had failed at. He had me his soul guide, Daralus, who was a large, Black Panther cub with piercing green eyes and large white wings. He had enjoyed casting the spell Daralus had recommended, and had watched happily as Daralus materialised out of thin air in front of him, similarly to the stag.

It was at that moment, he decided that he wouldn't be a pushover anymore. He would work alone. He would be great on his own.

Though, deep down, he knew that he desperately wanted a friend. He wanted someone to rely on, someone to hold his burdens while he was busy holding everybody else's.

Harry was dragged forcefully from his thoughts by the heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and walking into the kitchen, and he sighed. _Trouble in paradise._

It was at that moment, Harry made a vow to himself.

 _I will be more than this. I will be more than what they made me._

 **0o0o0o0**

 _#18 Drasmere Lane_

A short, underweight girl sat in her bedroom, curled up in her windowsill. Her legs were tucked up to her chest, and her curtains were drawn, so you could only see her if you were directly outside her window. She was small enough to fit in the tiny gap between the white canvas curtains and the window pane without creating a disturbance in the drawn curtains, so this place always proved to be the best of hiding spots. Her forehead was resting on her knees as she fought back tears, and her bushy, light brown hair fell over her face as she sobbed.

As the horizon lit up, she wiped her eyes slowly on her large, black hoody, and held her breath as large, clomping footsteps passed her door.

 _Never let your guard down, vulnerability will destroy you._

That was the rule she had reiterated to herself over and over again, every moment of her life. Her father had made sure of that.

Ever since her mother had died having her, Hermione Granger had lived a life of pain and misery, not much different from that of a boy living miles away in Surrey. Her father was almost constantly drunk, and school was her only escape from his fists, those six blissful hours of forgetfulness.

But she still never let her guard down.

Hermione sighed, depressed and tired, and listened to her father stomp, shout and rage in a drunken fit out on the landing. She knew that he was so drunk that he wouldn't remember this at all the next evening, so she was safe to stay hidden.

She ran her fingers over the bruise that had blossomed on her left forearm, the gruesome purple contrasting sharply with her pale skin. Why did he do this? She didn't know. How did he become so cruel? She did.

Blame.

He needed somebody to blame, and she just happened to fit the perfect criteria.

Hermione sighed again, and raised her right hand, willing her bracelet to come to her. It was a bracelet that Hermione had made herself when she was five, thick and worn from too much use. It was black, and made of soft, frayed wool that felt soothing against her skin.

She didn't know how she did the… Thing. It just happened. She could make things happen… Magical things that could raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

She could bring things to her from far away. She could sharpen her pencil just by looking at it. She could repair things she had broken. She could create tiny balls of flame.

The one thing she couldn't do was make friends.

Hermione sighed again.

 _I will be more than this. I will be more than he makes me._

 **0o0o0o0**

 _The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole_

Ron Weasley was sobbing loudly.

He was locked in his tiny, attic room in his tiny, shabby house.

 _Damn them all, damn them to Hell!_ He thought bitterly, as his freckled face screwed up in anger. _Why today? I didn't do anything wrong!_

 _Control your emotions. Stay impassive._

Ron had just been thrown bodily in hear by his irate mother after a disastrous trip to the wizarding market, Diagon Alley. Ron had been developing his magical power immensely ever since his brother, Bill, had been made Head Boy, spending hours cooped up in his room, and training in wandless magic. This was why he was so excited about finally going to the infamous _Diagon Alley! So many books!_ He had headed straight for the bookstore, intent on getting some more books on wandless transfiguration, but, just as he'd reached the door, he had been pulled back away by his fuming mother, who was hissing in his ear about ' _Ignorant little midget like you won't learn anything, Boy!'._

Ron's mother had dragged him by the ear back into the Leaky Cauldron, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and (ignoring his protests) flooed the two of them back home.

They had arrived at the Burrow, and Molly had immediately turned into 'Sweet Molly'. **(A/N yes I know Molly is really OOC but it had to be done)**

 **Flashback…**

 _The two redheads tumbled through the fireplace in the living room of the Burrow, coughing and wheezing as dust and ash sprung up around them. Molly barely bothered to brush herself off before tightening her grip on her sons ear, and pulling him mercilessly out of the room, down the stairs and into the small basement._

 _Knowing what was next, Ron weakly_ tried _to struggle, but his efforts proved fruitless – in a second he was tied to the chair as Molly leaned over him menacingly._

 _"Now, ickle Ronniekins, why did you do that?"_

 _Her sickly sweet voice chilled Ron to the bone. He had no idea why she acted like this to him, and not to the other brothers._

 _She liked to hurt him, when nobody else was around. It had started with the odd cut here and there, the occasional burn. But it had grown._

 _Nobody could know. She told him this as she cut him, relishing in his cries. He supposed that she was a natural psychopath, relishing in the pain of others, but unable to feed the hunger for blood._

 _He was pulled from his musings by the first cut, Molly's favourite knife splitting the loose skin between his thumb and forefinger._

 _It was going to be a long day._

 **End flashback…**

Now, Ron sat in his room, running his abused, sore hands over the orange _Chudley Cannons_ bedspread. He would get out of here, and until then, he would keep training.

It was at that moment; Ron Weasley made a vow to himself.

 _I will be more than this. I will be more than she makes me._

 **0o0o0o0**

Somewhere far away, the cogs of fate were turning…

 **0o0o0o0**

 _fin._


	2. Chapter 1

**The Snake Trio**

 **Chapter 1 - Trains and Trust**

Hermione sighed loudly.

Her sigh was both dreamy and exasperated, both weary and anticipating.

She was going to Hogwarts!

Frankly, she had never felt more excited in her life. She was going to be with people like her! People who wouldn't think that she was weird, or Goth, or ugly. People who wouldn't care if she wore her oldest, darkest clothes and people who would be just like her!

Hermione snorted. She wasn't that naïve. She knew that there was bound to be prejudice, and she knew that she could not let herself trust easily, especially in this unknown, unanalysed world. She was obeying her motto even more than usual now.

She wore her best fitting black sweater (which just happened to be four sizes too big for her), and her best fitting black jeans (two sizes too big). Her once bushy hair had grown out in the last year, and was now settled in soft, dark curls that she had pulled back into a messy bun for the occasion. Her black boots were men's boots, the first she could find at a garage sale, and the shirt under her sweatshirt was a loosely fitting old thing, black, with the words 'Save the Plant Foundation' splashed across the front in faded, cracked red lettering.

Hermione was startled by the sound of a car horn tooting, and she looked out of King's Cross station entrance just in time to see her father barrelling past an old Ford Anglia **(A/N yes that is Ron)** in his dirty old scrapheap car. She caught sight of him in the front seat as he rounded a corner, taking a last look at her father as he disappeared from sight, beer in hand.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Hermione turned away from the last piece of her family she had with an air of grim finality hanging around her. She strode into the station, dragging her trunk behind her. She'd had to use some of the… stuff to get everything in. Her small, black and fawn kitten sat on her shoulder, blinking owlishly in the sudden light of the station.

Hermione approached the barrier between platforms nine and ten, took a deep a breath, and walked forwards. Professor McGonagall had told her that all she needed to do was run at the wall, and even though Hermione didn't trust her, she knew that this was her only chance. Hermione sped up, breaking into a run and bracing herself for the impact…

That didn't come. Hermione came to a halt, opened her eyes warily, and saw that she was no longer standing in the muggle world anymore.

A huge, red, gleaming steam engine was pulled on the tracks, billowing smoke that filled Hermione's nostrils like a flood. She walked towards it, lugging her trunk behind her, and looked down the train, taking in the atmosphere and subconsciously mapping out escape plans.

After learning all that she needed know, Hermione surreptitiously waved her hand over her trunk, shrinking it, and placed it in her sweatshirt pocket. She then hopped onto the scarlet train, and snuck stealthily down the corridor in the direction of a group of milling students. She blended in with the shadows enough to hear a few lines of conversation.

"I heard Harry Potter's coming to Hogwarts this year!"

"Oh! I bet he's so powerful!"

"Nah, he can't be! His mother was a mudblood! Draco Malfoy, he'll be one to look out for…"

Hermione snorted inwardly. Apparently, prejudice still ran deep in the Wizarding World after all. Walking away from the group, Hermione was so preoccupied that she didn't notice the two boys coming from different directions, heading for the same compartment as she was. She didn't notice them, and they didn't notice her, until all three of them reached out their hands and touched the door to the compartment, three hands touching one another.

A rush of pain ran up Hermione's arm, tendrils of agony pulling themselves up her arm until they reached the right side of her neck. The pain burned there for a couple of seconds, the dissipated. By the reactions of the other boys, Hermione knew that they had felt the pain as well.

The trio all stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then, as if by a silent agreement, they all pushed open the compartment door, stepping inside and locking it behind them. They all sat down, and observed each other carefully, all three of them sitting as far away from each other as possible.

The first of the boys was tall, lanky and red haired. He was pale, skinny and had a calculating face, like that of a chess master. He was wearing an old pair of ripped, dark jeans, a plain, navy shirt, and a brown canvas jacket. His large feet wear shoved inside dark brown boots, and his red hair was long and untameable, reaching his shoulders and seemingly burning on his head.

The second boy was slightly shorter, but much skinnier. He had raven-black hair, bright emerald eyes and pale, smooth skin. He was wearing a large grey t-shirt, and faded blue jeans that were sizes too big for him, and he had torn and cracked black trainers on his small feet. His hair was slightly longer than the first boy's, and it was tied back in a leather tie, half a dozen lone strands falling into his face.

Hermione could see the two boys observing her, just as she was them, and immediately was on guard. She tensed in her seat, drawing slightly away from the boys, and she could see them doing the same to her, and to each other. The second boy then turned to her, and looked her right in the eye.

She may have imagined it, but she thought that she could feel a slight pull in her mind…

After a few tense moments, the first boy spoke.

"I think I know what that was… I read about it last June." The boy paused, watching the other two with guarded trepidation. "It's called Persperone's Link, and it happens when two or more powerful wizards touch hands… But I never thought eleven year olds could be that powerful…"

The second boy looked from Hermione, to the first boy, and back again. Then, seemingly making a decision, he waved his hand slowly over the door, moving it for a few moments and then stilling and withdrawing his hand back to his lap.

"What did you-" Ginger started, but he was cut off by the second boy.

"Privacy charms, silencing charms, time slowing charms and illusion charms. Can't have anybody watching us, can we?" The boy narrowed his eyes, seemingly sizing the other two children up. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision that, by the look on his face, was against his better judgement. "What are your experiences with wandless magic?"

Hermione had not expected that.

There was a long silence which seemed to be suffocating the trio. Then, the first boy spoke.

"Been practicing it in secret since I was eight. Best thing I've ever done with it is conjuring my Soul Guide, Rah." The first boy looked between Hermione and the other boy, his eyes portraying an inner battle of emotions. Hermione decided that it was her turn. Here goes nothing.

"I started learning it when I was nearly eight, and I've never told anybody. The best thing I've done is meeting my Soul Guide, Decca. I've never conjured her, though."

Hermione and the red-haired boy both turned to the black-haired boy, looking at him expectantly.

He took in a deep breath, and said, "Same as him," he said, pointing at Ron with a pale hand. "Training since I was eight, conjured my Soul Guide, Daralus two years back."

The first boy, who Hermione had now picked up as the slightly more sociable one, spoke again.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but this tension is killing me… How about some introductions?"

The train gave a lurch, and Hermione went tumbling straight into the black-haired boy's lap, arms flailing. Hermione felt one hand hit something soft, and Harry's chest rumbled in a grunt of pain. Hermione finally managed to pull herself off Harry, dusting herself off, and returning to her original spot. She looked up at Harry, and was abashed to see a large bruise flowering on his cheek. He raised a hand and felt his face, then sent a mock glare at Hermione.

"There was no need to punch me, Greenie."

The tension broke, and the kids all gave low, cautious laughs. Hermione could tell that she wasn't the only one with a dark past in the trio, so she spoke up first.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a muggleborn." This didn't earn her as many raised eyebrows as she'd expected, so Hermione continued. "I live in a small town near Briton (sp?), and I grew up with my dad. My neck is killing me, and I really want to see if there's anything there now."

With that, Hermione pulled off her huge black hoody, letting it fall onto the bench beside her. She felt a little embarrassed by her old 'Save the Plants Foundation' shirt, but nobody said anything. She yanked the neck down, and peered down at her bare neck.

A small, dark circle was etched into her pale skin, black and rough, like it had been hastily scribbled on. Inside the circle was a small, barely noticeable infinity sign. The other two occupants of the compartment gave soft gasps, the raven-haired boy letting out a long, low whistle. Almost immediately, the two boys lowered their shirts, revealing marks similar to hers. The red-haired boy had an eye implanted in his circle, and the other boy had a strange, triangular rune, with a circle and a vertical line inside it.

After a long pause, Ginger spoke again.

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself…" the boy steeled himself, and then carried on. "I'm Ron Weasley, second youngest of seven. I grew up with my parents and siblings, in a house near Ottery St. Catchpole. I'm a pureblood… Barely." That was all that Ron seemed like he was going to say, so Raven picked up the line from there.

"I'm… Harry Potter" he said reluctantly, as if expecting to be scolded. After a moment of silence, he carried on. "I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle in Surrey, and I think that the Wizarding world is stupid. Idiotic."

"I second that!" said Ron.

"And me!" Hermione said, before she had realised what she was saying, and blushed as the pair looked at her.

"Oh, look! Hermione Granger speaks willingly! Front page material, this!" said Ron, amusement shining behind his eyes.

"Oh, be quiet, Ron!" Hermione said, in an almost fond way. _Almost_. "It's true though! The wizarding world is truly idiotic! They never expand their knowledge; half of our textbooks are dated around the sixteenth century! They think that their better than muggles, but they still use quills, parchment and owls! No wizard-raised person I have ever even heard of has an innovative bone in their body! I mean, the wizarding community has just dug itself into a hole! They have Victorian methods, an idiotic, cowardly minister, and a biased court that's corrupted with pureblood supremacists! And they still think that they're better than muggles!" Hermione finished, surprised when the boys didn't blanch under her excess of knowledge, but nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, the Wizarding World needs a wakeup call," said Ron. "They have so many stereotypes, like 'muggleborns are weaklings', and 'Slytherins are evil'. I mean, you get sorted when you're eleven, and how can an eleven year old be evil?"

"I know!" put in Harry, who hadn't spoken in a while. "Everybody I met in Diagon expects me to be in Gryffindor because I'm the 'Boy-Who-Lived'! But honestly, I'm an ideal Slytherin! I'm ambitious, I'm resourceful and I'm sneaky! If I got sorted into Slytherin, maybe the wizarding world would come to their senses!"

"Yeah, same for me," said Hermione. "A muggleborn hasn't been Slytherin for over a century, and that's only because they are told that Slytherin are evil! But I am genuinely a Slytherin!"

"And me" Ron said, "None of my family have ever been in Slytherin, but I'm Slytherin through and through!"

There was then a long silence. None of the three had realised how much they were opening up to each other, and it was unnerving.

"Look" said Harry flatly after a moment's pause. "We are all mature, opinionated, smart and ambitious people. I can hardly call us kids, as I know that none of us are anymore. We can do great things." Harry turned to Ron. "Ron, your family may not be that respected, but you are a pureblood. You know a lot about wizarding culture, yes?" At Ron's nod, Harry continued, turning to Hermione. "Hermione, you have a lot of knowledge on muggle sciences, yes? Physics?" Hermione nodded the affirmative, so Harry went on. "And I have been reading up on theories about how magic works ever since I found out I was a wizard. If we worked together, we could revolutionise the wizarding world! We could rid it of stereotypes, and biases!" Harry finished, and honestly, Hermione found a lot of sense in his words.

"Well, we would need a name… If we're going to change the world we need a name." Ron said, looking as though he was in deep thought.

"How about 'Lustitia Intulimus'?" Hermione said, grabbing the attention of Harry and Ron immediately. "It means 'We Brought Justice' in Latin." **(A/N pronounced 'use-tih-tee-ah in-too-lee-moos')**

"Yes," said Ron after a moment. "That sounds good."

"Ok…" said Harry. "We could start with a wizarding stationary shop. It could sell muggle stationary, wizard stationary, charmed stationary. I could rent out a place in Diagon Alley, I do have enough money. I've also been looking up some wizard laws for the Noble and Ancient houses, and, since I'm the Lord of the House of Potter, I could take you two as my wards, to get you away from your abusive family members."

The reaction to this sentence was immediate.

"What?!" said Ron, flabbergasted. "How do you know?! What-?" Ron started to rant, but was cut off by the sight and sound of Harry laughing grimly, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes.

"I notice things, Ron," said Harry. "The way your mother held onto your arm tightly enough to bruise as you walked into King's Cross. The way your eyes dart around for an escape whenever you're around her." Harry directed his attention to Hermione. "The way the skin on your neck is tight, a sign of excessive bruising. The way you came into Kings Cross with your guard up, and your eyes constantly assessing the situation. I notice things, and I know you two do as well. That's why I think we would make a good team."

"Well, I think that a stationary shop is good, but what about an enchantments shop?" said Ron. "I have a brother who has lost his job as a curse breaker, and he could surreptitiously get offered a job as head enchanter at the Lustitia Intulimus shop. He's really good!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" said Hermione, "Don't you think we're going too fast? I mean, I like the Idea of a revolution, and I think we're all capable, but… We're eleven…" she finished uncertainly.

Harry flashed her a bright grin. "Of course we're going to fast, but would you really like it any other way?" he asked. "We all have a connection because we've grown up in harsh, abusive atmosphere. We are all linked together by this 'Perspone's Link'" (here, Harry gestured to his neck) "We are all ambitious, we are all smart, powerful and strong. I ask you again, would you really like it any other way?" Harry finished.

Hermione honestly couldn't.

Ron stepped in now. "You said that there were time slowing charms on the compartment door?" At Harry's nod, Ron continued. "How much time has passed outside the compartment?"

Harry checked his watch.

"Three minutes, and we've been talking for thirty."

 _This is going to be the start of something great._

 **0o0o0o0**

Five hours later (or fifty hours later for our favourite trio), the students started clambering off the train, bleary eyed, squinting into the darkness that contrasted the light of the train. Harry, Hermione and Ron climbed off the huge scarlet locomotive, sticking tightly to each other. A lot had changed in the fifty hours they had spent in the compartment. They had finalised their plans, and had sent and received many owls from Gringotts, Diagon Alley and muggle stationary shops that must have been extremely bemused at the sight of a snowy white owl sending and receiving business propositions. The three children who left the train owned a joint Gringotts vault (under the names Decca, Rah and Daralus Kataskevastits*), two small side-shops in Diagon Alley (complete with linking secret passages and a small flat), and a small custom wand shop in Knockturn. They had bought it off the owner, who had seemed happy enough to be rid of it, and they planned to put an advert in the Prophet about hiring wandcrafters as soon as possible.

On the train, Harry, Ron and Hermione had transfigured all of their muggle clothes, parchment, quills, pens, paper, trunks, and other possessions with wandless magic, and now they were a smooth black, each playing host to small, silver logos. The logo the three had decided on for the Lustitia Intulimus was an equal, neat circle that held the strange rectangular rune, the infinity sign and the eye interlocked with each other. The words 'Lustitia Intulimus' were written in neat, archaic print at the bottom of their parchments, on the top of their trunks and the along the seams of their muggle clothes. They received many strange looks as they exited the train, many eyes drawn to their black and silver trunks, and black owl cages. But they didn't care.

"Firs' yea's! Firs' yea's over 'ere!"

Hagrids voice rang through the milling students like a foghorn, and the three children made their way over to it, staying at the back so not to be noticed. They surreptitiously shrunk their trunks and cages wandlessly, and transfigured them into silver rings which they pulled onto their smallest fingers. They then looked each other up and down, observing each other for any remaining evidence of suspicious activity.

They had changed since they got on the train. It was only subtle, but it was noticeable. The leather tie in Harry's hair was now black, rather than the burgundy it had been. The string holding Hermione's hair up in a bun had been transfigured into an elegant silver ribbon. Ron's wand holster was now black and silver, just visible under his sleeve. Apart from that, the trio looked the same as when they had first got on the train.

The nervous first-years followed Hagrid towards the wooded boats that hovered on the clear water, settling into them with slight trepidation. Harry, Ron and Hermione settled into a raft with a talkative, blonde girl, who seemed to realise soon after the boats had set off that Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't want to talk, and fell into silence.

Soon the boats reached the shore, and the three clambered out, sticking close to each other again. They followed Hagrid as he approached the castle doors, and knocked loudly, three times.


End file.
